Feelings Are A Liability
by MirrorImage003
Summary: Natasha Romanoff was a professional. She was built without emotions, without feelings. So why was she panicking? Teamfic. Natasha-centric. Rated for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own Avengers, just the fic's plotline.

Hello fellow Avenger Geeks and Geekettes! It's been a while since I last wrote an Avenger fanfiction, and I must say, I have personally improved much more than I had thought.

This fic is Natasha-centric, but it has team bonding. Just to warn you, the rest of the team doesn't come in till later though. I don't have any plans of making it have a set pairing, mainly because my shipping for Natasha has been fluxuating dangerously lately. But feel free to read into it as much as you'd like.

Keep in mind it's multichaptered. I'm aiming for five right now, but you never know with me. Could be more, could be less. Ignore spelling errors, etc. I didn't have time to proofread, and my stupid computer doesn't have spellcheck.

Otherwise, Enjoy!

* * *

It was a simple mission, really. Get in, mark her hit, get out. Nothing she couldn't handle. Nothing she hadn't done before. It really was simple. Except for one irritating, frustrating, completely worrying factor. That morning, right before her briefing, she had recieved the news from Hill.

The Captain was missing.

Natasha could've slapped him for how damn good of a target he was. He may have been a supersoldier, but it was a well-known fact that he was still human. Since New York there had been three assassination attempts, and two kidnapping plots on his head. She, as well as the other Avengers, had thought he was well enough protected from the threats, but this morning's events proved otherwise.

She forcibly shoved away all thoughts of Rogers. Her mission was her main concern at the moment. It had to be. A twinge of anger ignited in her. She wasn't supposed to be affected by stuff like this. She wasn't supposed to care. Natasha had thought her walls were stronger than that.

A string of curses flew through her head as Natasha slipped into the eerie building complex before her. She currently was placed in Tokyo, her mission to slip in incognito and interfere with the Russian organization (it was always Russian) that was supposedly planning an attack on America. The details of this plan were still unknown, but that's why she was here, wasn't it?

Her target was Stanislav, which according to SHIELD's intel, was the leader of the system. She had read the files, and she hadn't necessarily liked what she had seen.

He was fifty-two, and incredibly powerful. He practically had the Russian government in the palm of his hand, and his resources were seemingly endless. If these rumors of threats were true, America, as well as all other countries, could be in danger of a full blown world war, an ultimate dictatorship, or possibly both. But that was only if he succeeded. Natasha wasn't ready to give up that easily. She had also read up on his personal ties. Apparently, the man had an ego to match his prowess. When he had taken hold of the terrorist organization, he had had his name changed from Konstantin, meaning 'steadfast' in Russian, to Stanislav, meaning 'glorious government.' Obviously, the guy had a priority for image.

Natasha made her way through the hallways, alert for any obstacles. From memory, she recalled the blueprint of the building she had studied during her briefing. Stanislav's main headquarters was predictably buried deep within the maze of halls and rooms. That's where she would find his plans, and undoubtedly the wannabe-dictator himself.

Footsteps sounded from down the corridor, and Natasha quickly stepped inside an empty room to her right, leaving a crack in the door. She held still and watched as a man dressed in a muddy brown lab coat walked by. As soon as his back was to her, the Widow made her move. In seconds, the man was unconscious and stripped of his uniform.

Natasha shoved the man into the room and shut the door. She briefly inspected the ID card and found he was a scientist adopted into Stanislav's establishment. Her brow furrowed. Why on earth would he need a scientist? Perhaps for a bomb? Some sort of new military weapon? Whatever the reason was, the redhead intended to find out. She slipped the card into the pocket of the ugly brown coat and hurriedly made her way towards the HQ, all the while composing her facade.

Nobody questioned her disguise as she passed countless guards and other scientists. That was, until she finally made it to the center of the building. Four guards were posted at the entrance, all heavily armed and intimidating. A camera was focused on her from the ceiling, and the door required a card scan, and a fingerprint identification. They obviously weren't taking any chances. She kept her face neutral and approached the guards.

One stepped in front of her, blocking off the door, and the others stiffened to attention.

"Who are you? Do you have permission to enter?" The guard questioned in harsh Russian.

Here goes. Time to begin.

Natasha twisted her face into an expression of impatience and replied in perfect Russian tongue. "Of course I have permission. The Master summoned me himself."

The guard regarded her with detached eyes. "The Master is not present at the moment, and we have been given orders that no one is to enter without his presence."

Feigning outrage, the red head put a hand to her hip. "Are you a complete imbecile? I'm here to inspect and perfect the plans while he is absent. That is my whole purpose."

"I cannot let you in."

Natasha lifted her chin and turned away, throwing one last sentence over her shoulder. "Well when he questions why his plans have not been inspected, then you may answer to the Master."

She could hear the guard shift uneasily as she strutted away. A fellow soldier leaned in, whispering doubtedly to the first guard. "Perhaps we should let her in. You know how he can get when he is not obeyed."

There was a second of silence before the first guard gave in to his fear. "Wait!" His Russian command stopped the assassin in her tracks, and she smirked mentally. "If you are summoned by him, then open the door and you may be permitted inside."

Natasha drew a breath and turned back around. She racked her mind of a plan. If she scanned the real scientist's card, while she was obviously not male, suspicion would be aroused. And she could not scan her finger without being found out. There was only one solution out of this. Lie.

Rolling her eyes, she motioned to the scanner. "Do I look like I've been here long enough to be in posession of an ID card, or be entered into the security system? I am a temporary scientist. It's impossible for me to open it."

The guard narrowed his eyes. She gestured with her hands in a shooing manner. "Well? Go on, open it. I, nor the Master, will wait forever!"

After only a second of hesitation, the guard slid out his card, scanned it, and then removed his glove to plant his thumb on the scanner. The door opened with a hiss. Natasha smiled patronizingly at the guards as she walked in. "Spasiba."

The room inside was quiet and empty. As soon as the doors shut behind her, she made her way to the huge table in the center of all the technology and equipment. Her nerves were jittery despite her professional experience with missions. On the table was a layout of dozens of papers and files. She shuffled through, skimming over notes and blueprints. There were tons of numbers and inventories of weapons, soldiers, and safehouses, but she didn't see any knew information or invasion plans.

A bead of sweat trickled down her brow. "C'mon, c'mon."

Page after page she inspected, but couldn't find anything of importance. Surely this mission wasn't for nothing? And right before she was about to give up, her eye snagged on something familiar. Something crucial.

Printed in slanted handwriting on a manilla folder, was the name of someone she knew quite well. Steve Rogers.

Her heart stopped. With shaking hands, she opened the folder. Inside was papers of information on the supersoldier. His parents, closest friends, school attendances, military records, all of it was in there. Including the experiment conducted on him all those years ago that had changed his life.

What in the world? Why would Stanislav need all this crap on the Captain? Could this be linked to his disappearance? She rifled through more of the papers until she reached the last section.

Her eyes widened.

In the very back, there were more papers. Papers recording several of Stanislav's top soldiers. Papers full of half finished scientific formulas. Formulas for the Super Soldier Serum.

Stanislav was building an army of supersoldiers, and he had taken the Captain to complete his formula. He had taken the Captain here.

Natasha steeled herself. She needed to abort the mission for now. This was beyond what SHIELD had hypothesized. And now, it was personal.

* * *

The second she was out of that suffocating HQ, she strode past the guards and to the other wing of the building. Natasha locked herself in an empty lab and turned on her SHIELD comm that she had previously shut off for the mission. Agent Hill picked up.

"What is it, Romanoff? The mission couldn't have gone that fast."

Natasha steadied her breathing. "It's the Captain. That's their weapon."

"I'm connecting Fury now." There was a pause before the commander himself was online.

"Elaborate, Romanoff."

"Stanislav is the one that took Rogers. He has everything on the Cap. All the information on his past, on his experiment, on the serum. He has half of the formula for the serum already, but he needed the Captain to find the missing half, that's why he kidnapped him. Once he has that full serum, he's going to create a whole army of supersoldiers, all trained exactly for the-"

"-Russian organization." Hill finished, horror dawning on her. "Shit..."

"Do you have his whereabouts?" Fury questioned, sounding calm over the comm.

"With all the scientists crawling around, I'm willing to bet he's somewhere in this complex. Do you think you can hack the security cameras and find exactly where he is? If he's here, I need to break in and extract him as soon-"

"You can't." Fury interrupted. Natasha blanched.

"What do you mean I can't? Rogers is _here_! If they get that formula, then all of our efforts to stop Stani-"

"Are you questioning my judgement, Agent Romanoff?" The redhead bit her cheek in frustration, but answered with a negative. He continued. "Don't be stupid. Even you, the Black Widow, can't take on a whole building of Russian soldiers on your own. And even if you did manage to make it outside, Stanislav would just send more after you, not to mention there's absolutely no place for you to hide."

"Cap and I can hold our own. And when we make it out, we can just-"

"There's no guarantee Rogers is even in any condition to stand let alone fight a legion of armed men." Natasha tasted blood as she bit through her cheek. She was getting seriously tired of being interrupted. "Our best bet is to stay undercover and find out as much information as you can on Rogers location as well as the progress of the scientists. We can send in backup, but the earliest they'll arrive is six hours. Stall until then. We'll alert you about the backup as soon as it's within the vicinity. In the mean time, follow your orders, Agent Romanoff. Am I clear?"

She swallowed a sarcastic retort. "Crystal."

"Good." The connection broke. Natasha switched the bug in her ear to standby. With a deep breath and a brush of her robe, she was ready.

First things first, she needed to find the Captain. And to do that, she needed a new disguise. Applying the same tactic she had on the poor scientist from before, the Black Widow borrowed the uniform of a patrolling guard. She hid the body and adjusted the huge jacket and trousers so that it fit her more feminine and petite form better. Natasha searched the guard's pockets, stripping him of all his weapons. She strapped two knives to her thighs, a handgun at her hip, a throwing knife in her sleeve, and the M16 secured in her grip. Not to mention her trademark Widow's Bite bracelets hidden on her wrists. She pulled her red locks back and stuffed them into the military barret, pulling it down slightly to cover her face a little more. And then she was on the move.

Despite how much she denied it, Natasha couldn't avoid the worry nagging at her for Steve. She knew firsthand what kind of hellish torture a Russian commander could inflict on a person when they were set on a goal. But then, she had to remind herself that she was Natasha Romanov, that she was the Black Widow, that she wasn't supposed to _worry_ about people. Attachments, affections, _feelings _were a liability, especially in her field. And yet, she found herself growing more and more anxious with every minute she was left wondering.

Natasha Romanoff was a professional. She was built without emotions, without feelings. So why was she panicking?

A while passed as she wandered the halls, trying to decide where to start. She wasn't sure how much time had gone by. Down the hall at an intersection of corridors, some guards were jogging past. One stopped when he caught sight of her and called out in a deep Russian voice. "You! Guard! Hurry up! All elites are needed in the laboratory!"

Natasha sped her pace up. "What for?"

The guard continued down the hall, the Black Widow right behind him. "The subject almost got loose. Master Stanislav called for extra reinforcement in order to ensure the scientific study being conducted is successful."

Natasha followed at a fast pace, keeping track of every turn, every door, and every step, creating a mental map of an escape route. So Rogers had managed to make them nervous? She was impressed, and even more frustrated. On one hand, he had inadvertently just showed her the way to the lab, but otherwise, he had also made it infinitely more difficult for her to bust him out. Fury and his logic be damned. If Stanislav was able to complete that formula, this mission would be blown. And Rogers would be in danger.

She saw a doorway, identical to the HQ ones, and dozens of guards filing in. She shoved her way past and scanned her surroundings. Guards were lined up all around the room, guns drawn, loaded, and trained at the spectacle in the center of all the chaos. Natasha looked on emotionlessly at Rogers who was strapped to a lab table. A man in a pristine coat stood beside him. The redhead assumed he was the head scientist. And overlooking everything, standing tall in a deep green uniform was a middle aged man with a white mustache and graying hair. Her eyes narrowed. Stanislav.

She imitated the other guards and aimed the barrel of her M16 on her comrade. Confusion quickly surfaced in her mind. The Cap's restraints were thin metal, so flimsy that she knew he could snap it without any effort. So, why wasn't he escaping? Natasha squinted her eyes, trying to observe as much as she could from this distance. His grey-blue eyes were halflidded, and he wasn't saying, not even protests. Her heart jolted in realization. They had drugged him. He wasn't breaking the restraints because he literally couldn't.

She saw Stanislav approach the table, pinching the barely aware Captain's chin. "Now, American," he spoke in heavily accented English. "Are you ready?"

Incredibly, he was conscious enough to slur out a reply. "Somehow I don't think my answer would affect your decision."

The Russian man chuckled. "Of course not, but what am I if not hospitable?" He leaned closer, hovering above the supersoldier. "Do not worry, American, by aiding us in our cause, you are helping in the improvement of the world! Is not that noble enough a cause?"

Natasha watched in slight admiration as well as intense scorn when Rogers turned his head and spit at the commander's face.

"Men like you don't know the meaning of a noble cause. Only a selfish ambition."

Surprise flitted through her when the Russian leader viciously backhanded the incapacitated man, but she did not flinch. Rogers' head flew to the side from impact, but to his credit, he didn't show any signs of pain. Maybe it was the drugs.

With a malicious smile, Stanislav wiped the spit off of his face and then the blood from his hand. "I must say, I am impressed with your courage, however stupid it may be. Perhaps this will be a more entertaining experience than I had previously thought. It will be fun to break you, Captain." He stepped back and motioned once with his hand. "Begin the extraction."

The scientist stepped forward, picking up the largest needle Natasha had ever seen from among his tray of medical supplies. There had to be at least fifteen different injections displayed there. She tried not to panic. This was not good. It would be a good three and a half hours before backup arrived. By then, the serum would be complete, or at least on its way to completion. She ran through her options, but none were even possible with how many guards were in the room. Dammit, this wasn't how the mission was supposed to go. She was in way over her head.

She watched as the needle was injected into Rogers arm. Blood filled the tube and traveled along a plastic pipe to a blood bag. Before she could prepare herself, the scientist had seized a small pair of scissors and begun cutting away at his shirt. Her eyes widened. His chest was covered in bruises and cuts. Obviously his guards had gotten a little too excited with the supersoldier in custody. Unbidden rage filled her heart. It took all the strength she had not to begin raining shots down at the guards around her and Stanislav himself.

She tried not to feel sick when the scientist created a seven-inch incision in his side with a scalpel. Natasha was used to blood. Her hands were covered in it. She was immune to knives. She had slit the throats of too many men for her to count, but this was different. This wasn't a quick slash, it wasn't an almost painless slip of a blade. It was a slow, deliberate, and torturing slide of metal through flesh, and it made her skin crawl with memories of her own torture sessions.

The scientist used an even larger needle to push into the incision, and Natasha had to shut her eyes to avoid puking. She almost dropped her gun when the Cap's grunts of pain turned into desperate shouts. She didn't want to look, she didn't want to hear, she just wanted it to end. This wasn't like the times in her dark past when she tortured men, this was in completely uncharted territory. This was her comrade, her friend, and this time, she _cared_.

But as soon as the screams began, they stopped. The scientist set aside his tools, slipped the needle out of his arm, and briefly inspected the chunk of muscle he had taken from the incision. With a simple nod from Stanislav, he disappeared into another secluded lab, a quarter of the guards following him and securing the entrance.

Stanislav once again leaned over the Captain who was gasping for air, the drugs apparently starting to wear off. He smiled. "It's been a pleasure to be in service with you, dear American. Unfortunately, I do not think it is wise to let you go, but feel free to make yourself comfortable."

Then, he was walking out the door, the guards following him out.

* * *

Author's Note: Kind of left on a cliffy... Sorry bout that. I already have the second chapter typed out, but the speed of my updating also depends on the level of feedback I get from y'all. (Did I really just say 'y'all'?) So review, ladies and gents.

If my Russian is wrong, feel free to correct me, because I'm actually Asian and just used Google. Seriously. I think 'Spasiba' means thank you, but for all I know, it probably really means something totally weird like potato or hippopotamus. Thanks, Google translate.

Anyways, review, favorite, follow, whatever. Just don't leave me hanging. I live off your guys' responses, you know.

With Love,

MI3


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel's Avengers.

I have returned! And ohmygosh I am so pissed right now. I literally just finished uploading this and then the site was all "you are not logged in" so everything got erased. -.- Oh well, it's working now so that's that.

Usually I respond to my reviewers, but considering it's like 1:30 in the morning right now, I probably won't... Sorry guys.

* * *

Natasha wanted to stay behind, she wanted to make sure Rogers would be okay. She slowed to a stop when the commander and guards exited the lab. A hand landed on her shoulder. She was a split second from tossing the man over her and putting him into an arm bar, but refrained for the sake of her disguise.

"Hey," the guard behind her gave a little shove. She resisted the urge to kick backwards into his face. "Hurry up and leave."

Thinking fast, she turned around. "The Master wanted me to keep watch." She'd lied her way in once, she could do it again. Another guard behind the first one cocked an eyebrow, shifting the gun from his right hand to his left.

"Commander himself gave off a specific list of guards he handpicked to stay behind. You weren't mentioned, shortstack." She almost cursed out loud. A third guard approached them.

"Trying to trick us just to get a part of the action?" He grinned knowingly. "Sorry kid, you missed your chance to rough the American up. Now it's our turn."

Natasha felt disgust and hatred churning in her stomach. They weren't guarding Steve, they were torturing him. She could hear the harsh breathing from where he was strapped to the table. Every ragged breath increased her worry and desperation. Where was the backup? If Fury didn't get them here fast, Rogers was going to die at the hand of these goons.

Another shove from the guard and she was pushed out of the lab. He glanced at her in slight sympathy before he closed the door. "Sorry, shortstuff. I'll try and see if you can get a couple shots once Stanislav isn't watching."

Rage made her insides twist, and she had to physically step back in order to prevent herself from jumping the guy and showing just how much of a 'shortstack' she was. She had to do something. This was inhumane.

Once she was sure she was alone and wasn't being watched, Natasha stood anxiously in from of the doors and connected the comm. Both Fury and Hill were on.

"How fucking long is it going to take to get some backup here?!"

Fury was first to respond. "We are trying, Agent Romanoff. Last time I checked, teleportation wasn't an option, so we're stuck with the old fashioned way of flying them in."

She really wasn't in the mood for his cynicism. "How. Long."

This time, Hill answered. "An hour and twenty three minutes."

"A whole hour? We don't have that kind of time! They already have the damn formula, and the serum will be finished by the time you come within ten minutes of the headquarters. Not to mention Rogers is in the laboratory getting beat up like a fucking punching bag. He'll be dead before backup even makes it here."

"Let me worry about the formula and the backup. You need to-"

Natasha wasn't usually one to lose her cool, but she was getting pretty damn tired of sitting around playing puppet. If Fury thought she was going to just wait for Cap to die, then he had another thing coming.

"Enough. I'm not doing this anymore. Compromised mission or not, I am getting him out of there."

"Agent Romanoff! This is not within your power. I'm commanding you to obey orders."

"If this isn't 'within my power' while I'm standing fifty feet from the situation, then it definitely isn't within your power from fifty hundred miles. This time, I'm making the call."

"Romanoff, this-"

She tossed the bug to the ground and smashed it under her heel. If they really needed to contact her, they would send someone in faster.

Natasha needed to find a way out of this. She assessed her predicament rapidly. The building had four floors. They were below ground level on the first. Approximately forty guards per level from what she saw. Stanislav and the scientist were far enough away that it would take about ten minutes for them to actually arrive in the lab. There were exactly ten guards with the Cap in the laboratory. If they were to escape the lab, they would need to travel up the stairs to the groundlevel first, and then they would be able to make it outside. But then that left the problem of getting away. The guards obviously would give chase. Maybe if she could hijack a car, they could escape. But it could take too long, especially if there weren't any cars in immediate reach.

Another thought occurred to her, and she almost facepalmed for her forgetfulness. Stanislav still had possession of the formula as well as the serum. If she were to actually complete this mission, she needed to find some way to save the Cap and assassinate Stanislav at the same time.

The Widow grit her teeth. There was almost no way out of this. It was an impossible task. She lacked time, power, numbers, and aid. The odds were stacked incredibly high against her.

Her head whipped up when she heard a slightly muffled, but agonized yell through the door. Her eyes hardened. She didn't have time for this. She would just have to improvise. She reached into her side, opting for her knife instead of her gun. No use wasting bullets. With a flick of her wrist, the blade was buried hilt deep into the fingerprint and card scanner. Like magic, the doors slid open.

The second she had the opportunity, she lowered her M16, bracing it against her side, and raised her handgun. She didn't miss a shot. All ten men were on the ground, dead. On the downside, the gunshots were loud and echoed down the corridors. She estimated that they had about a minute and ten seconds to get the hell out of there.

Natasha reholstered her handgun and slung the M16 behind her back, sprinting to the blonde on the table. That black hatred returned at the sight of his bloody state. His lip was split, nose crooked, eye swollen, and his jaw sported new bruises. Not to mention his bare chest that was a shredded mess of blood and cuts. His elbow was bent at a funny angle, and Natasha was positive fingers weren't supposed to bend that way. She pressed the remote button and his restraints popped off with a hiss.

She grabbed his shoulders, trying to avoid his mutilated wounds, and shook hard. "Rogers! Steve! You've got to get up. We need to get out of here!" His head lolled to the side, and the previous panic returned. She pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was only the faintest hint of a beat.

"C'mon, Captain! Don't you do this to me! You're a supersoldier, dammit! This can't be enough to kill you!" She shook his shoulders again, and when he didn't respond, she slapped his cheek. By now, alarms had gone off, and she could hear Russian curses and shouts from the halls. Their minute was up.

Taking a risk, she abandoned the Captain, searching around the room. This was a science lab. There was sure to be something harmful in here. Ripping open a cupboard, she searched the labels. A vial label jogged something in her memory. She grabbed it. Nitric Acid. The footsteps were getting closer. She rummaged through some more finally knowing what she was looking for. In the back, she found it. Hydrazine in a blue bottle. Her limited knowledge of chemicals came from a few days spent with Banner and Stark, but she remembered these two the clearest because of the tremendous explosion that resulted from it.

Guards were streaming towards the entrance. Natasha kicked out at the table, sending Steve to the very back of the room, farthest from the entrance. Her feet moved fast. The Widow stepped out of the lab for a second, just to retrieve her knife from its place in the electric circuit of the door, and then stepped back until she was just inside, gun in hand. She smirked as the guards kept coming, some raising their weapons to shoot, and missing. And right before they could enter, she threw the vials high above the crowd, jammed her knife into the scanner once again, and the doors began to close. She raised her gun, and in a split second, the two bottles were being shattered by a single bullet.

The blast went off before the doors could close all the way, and Natasha was sent flying backwards, landing and skidding across the concrete floor. When she looked up, the door to the lab was completely mutilated, but remained in place.

Her attention shifted immediately to her comrade, reaching out to feel his pulse again. Her eyes widened. There wasn't anything, not even a beat.

She didn't know how long his heart had been stopped for, but she didn't care. All she was focused on was getting it started again. Her fingers interlocked, and she braced them against his chest, right above his heart. She pushed down several times, applying as much force as possible. Sweat built against her brow.

She bent down, ear pressed against his chest. Not a sound. Desperately, she tried again, pumping her fists up and down against his sternum. His blood was warm and sticky, smeared across the side of her face from where she had laid it on his chest, and seeping over her hands as she attempted CPR.

"You better not die on me, Steve. I will be so fucking pissed." She could hear men outside the door, but it wouldn't open thanks to all of the dents and damage it had recieved from the explosion. She didn't bother worrying about how they were going to get out of the lab. Her main priority was saving her friends' life.

She continued her ministrations, bending down to listen to his heart every few pumps. "Why aren't you waking up?!" She growled out. She lifted a bloodstained hand to wipe sweat from her face and was surprised to feel her cheeks were wet with tears. When was the last time she had cried? Long enough that it scared her to find the drops falling down her face now. Frustratedly she wiped them away with the heel of her bloody hand. Natasha glared furiously at Steve's bruised and bloodied face.

"Wake. The. Fuck. Up!" She punctuated each word with a blow to his chest. But he remained unresponsive.

It was in times like this that she wished Clint was there. Hell, she wished they were all here. Before, she had preferred working alone, in fact, it was the only way she would work. But now, her partners, her teammates were what she craved most.

The tears blurred her eyesight, and she looked away from the Captain. When the haze cleared, her eyes caught on something laying by her feet. She clumsily bent to pick it up, ignoring the soung of gunshots pelting the metal door in the distance.

It was a needle. She glanced to the floor again and saw the scientist's half destroyed medical supplies strewn all across the room, undoubtedly from the blast. Her fingers shakily turned the needle over, reading the Russian label.

Adrenaline.

Her breath hitched. She may not be a doctor, but she knew what this did. The tube was twice the size of a normal injection, obviously specially equipped for the Captain himself. Without a second thought to doubt, and out of pure desperation, she raised the needle and slammed it into his chest.

There was a second of insane fear, one whole second where Natasha thought for sure that she had failed, that he had died. She had let him die.

And then that second ended when Steve's eyes snapped open, and he sprung up off the table, chest heaving in an agitated way. For the first time in who knows how long, Natasha's lips curved into a fullblown smile, teeth and everything.

"Criminy! What just happened?" His eyes flew to the red head before him. "Miss Romanoff?"

She nodded, the smile turning back into a professional frown. "I don't know how much you remember, but you were captured by Stanislav, and he left you to be tortured by his guards. You were gone, Cap."

His eyes widened in alarm. Then he looked down and flushed red with what little blood was left in his body. "Uh, my clothes, maam. Do you know where-"

He was cut off when he suddenly doubled over, an arm wrapped around his torso and his broken arm hanging to the side. A groan escaped him. Natasha guessed the adrenaline had worn off, and now the pain was hitting. An odd sizzling sounded from the door. She guessed the guards had gotten smarter, and were now melting their way through the metal barrier. She slipped the huge Russian jacket off her shoulders, still clad in her black cat suit underneath, and tossed it at him. He barely managed to catch it.

"Sorry, Steve. You might be in pain for a while, but we need to get going, find some way to escape." He grimaced before nodding, standing shakily to his feet. She came to his side and slipped an arm around his massive build, giving him whatever support he needed. She used her other hand to hold out the M16. "What can you handle?"

His face hardened and he reached for the gun with his left hand, the one that wasn't mutilated. "Whatever you can give me, ma'am."

She smirked and cocked her handgun, hoping for a few rounds left at least. Backup was still a while away. There would be no help for the two Avengers, and they both knew it. It was a useless battle, but a battle they were fighting anyways. "You should be worried more about what _they're_ going to give you." The guards were almost all the way through the door.

"I'll keep that in mind." He gave her a hopeless smile.

A bang sounded as the men pounded on the weakened barricade.

"Ready?" She smirked sardonically, on the verge of sorrow.

Part of the door flung loose, and they could see hands poking out of the opening.

"As ready as I'll ever be." A furious rebelliousness against death and fate rose in them.

The remaining part busted in under the man power.

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

Author's Note: Ahh, cliffhangers. What would we do without them? Natasha's slightly, sort of, maybe a little OC in this chapter when she's trying to revive the Captain. But, it just shows how much closer she's grown to her teammates, so maybe it's slightly more acceptable...hopefully.

Thanks for the feedback! I have the third chapter all typed out and ready, so just keep reviewing and hang tight, it'll be here soon!

MI3


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Avengers characters or concepts.

Had this part all typed up for a while, but I was waiting to upload it till I was ready... I'm actually pretty satisfied with how this chapter turned out. Hopefully you guys find it okay as well.

Avamys: Glad you approve! My chapters are kind of long, but I figured that wasn't necessarily a bad thing...

Liliththestormgoddess: Natasha is a pretty difficult character to grasp, so it makes me happy that you think I pulled her transition well! I hope it stays realistic throughout the story!

BlueRoseRabbit: Plenty of cliffies, I can promise you that ;)

CapsGirl: I'm not sure if I want it to be a Steve/Natasha story...but feel free to read into it as much as you want! There are definitely plenty of 'moments' between them in here! :)

Alice: Thank you for clarifying that for me. You never know with Google translate...

Muldoon22: Updated!

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Natasha could feel her blood rushing through her veins. This was the end. She knew it. He knew it. But that didn't change anything. If they wanted a fight, she was going to give them a war.

Her muscles cried out as she twisted around yet another elite guard. She wrapped an arm around his neck, clinging to the man from behind. With a grunt, she flexed her arm and yanked back hard, using her own body's momentum. There was a sickening crack before the guard fell to the ground, dead.

A meaty hand formed in her peripherals and she struck out viciously, delivering a sharp punch to the man's throat. The second he collapsed to his knees, the Widow grit her teeth and struck him in the temple. He was out cold.

Natasha spotted Steve to her right, crouched behind an overturned lab table to avoid being in the line of fire. With his uninjured hand, he lifted the gun and shot out at the men, managing to catch two in the chest and one in the leg. They dropped the floor in agony, and Natasha wasted no time in collecting two of their discarded handguns and using three bullets to put them down.

This was how they had been holding up for the past ten minutes. Take a guard down, plunder his weapons, and face the next wave of enemies. This way, they would have at least a little ammo in reserve.

Steve tossed a grenade down the hallway where countless other men were approaching, and both he and the Widow took refuge behind the corridor walls. The explosion took out at least half of the men, and as soon as it was safe enough to, the pair was heading into the debris, guns raised and legs moving fast.

"Keep running, and take a left up the flight of stairs. Once we get to the top, it's only three more turns till we make it outside." Natasha instructed between shots. The escape path was burned into her brain, and all she could see was the way out.

Steve shot two oncoming guards and punched a third one out. "And then what? Where do we go from there, once we're outside?"

Natasha kicked off the wall to her left and used the force to swing her other leg into a guard's face. He went down immediately. She allowed herself to bring down four more men, without bullets, before she finally answered, her voice dry and cracking, just above a whisper.

"I don't know."

Steve let out a harsh breath. If the assassin herself was unsure, then he knew they were screwed. But then again, he had known this from the beginning, hadn't he? The odds were against them, and nothing was for them. He grit his teeth and charged on into the fray.

Her chest heaved, but she fought on, holding the trigger as she mowed down anyone that came in her way. Another guard came at her from behind, raising the barrel of his gun to the back of her head. Green eyes flicked to the side, and then she twisted lithely, knocking the gun out of his hands with a neatly placed kick. In another second, he was writhing on the ground, shockwaves coursing through his body. Natasha adjusted her deadly cuffs before turning around and following after the Captain, jumping over bodies as she ran.

The stairway was just up ahead, and the hallway was clear - for now. She could see Rogers starting to slow down, no doubt from all the injuries he had sustained. As her exhaustion began to seep into her bones, Natasha dimly became aware of the alarm ringing through the building. They must've killed off a good chunk of the guards due to the absence of adversaries.

Her heart pumped fast, and she slowed to a jog as she approached the stairs, just five steps behind the supersoldier. Fatigue made her head pound and her reflexives sluggish. It was almost as if her mind was already registering the lack of enemies and was beginning to shut down. From the stairs on, there was only three more hallways and then they would be free. Supposedly.

Steve paused and let her go first, determined to watch her back. She wasn't exactly in a state to argue, and just brushed past him.

Maybe they were going to make it out of here alive. Maybe she would live to see her fellow Avengers again. Her family. (Yes, family, because there was no use in denying her affections now. She had realized that.) They'd made it this far, and there wasn't much left. Hope flooded her mind, and she picked up her foot to start up the flight of stairs, vision tunneling. All she could see was the step in front her as she moved one stride at a time, forcing her feet not to stumble. Within ten heartbeats she was only a few steps from the top.

Vaguely, she heard one, two, three gunshots go off. Did Steve run into more guards?

She turned backwards in concern and worry, looking behind to see Steve halting in his ascent to stare up at her. She saw the same worry and puzzlement reflected in his eyes.

But then her worry turned to confusion. A throbbing sensation made its way into her body. She shifted her gaze downwards and was surprised to see deep crimson blossoming from beneath her clothes. Three holes the width of her index finger were placed on her left shoulder, stomach, and upper right thigh, each just beginning to gush out blood.

When had those gotten there?

"Natasha!" She heard Steve shout in fear and knew he was taking the steps in threes to get to her.

Alarm coursed through her as the throbbing turned to blinding pain. She gasped and snapped her head back to look at the top of the stairs. A man stepped before her, gun in hand. Her vision was too blurry to recognize the figure.

Before she could even think or scream, a long serrated knife was whizzing straight for her head. She instinctively ducked, crying out as the movement jarred her bullet wounds. Another cry mirrored hers, and she looked just in time to see the blade imbed itself into the Captain's shoulder. Just above his heart. He collapsed on the stairs, and this time, Natasha did scream.

Numbness began consuming her as she watched her teammate roll to the side in agony, his whole body visibly tensed up. Horror spread across her features, because this was actually happening, and this time, it really was her fault. Oh, Tony, Bruce, Thor, Clint. None of them would forgive her. This was all her fault. She had let them all down. She had failed her family. The one time she managed to let herself _feel_, and she had ruined it. Just like everything else.

But then again, she had always known. Feelings were a liability. This was to be expected... But somehow that knowledge only made it hurt more.

A lighthearted laugh trickled into her ears. Wide green eyes flickered back up to the man, and recognition dawned on her as the pain forced the fuzziness from her eyes.

"What a clever attempt, I must admit." The heavily accented English dripped with malice. Natasha's muscles seized up. The delayed pain had caught up to her, attacking full force and leaving her thoughts delirious with anguish. Blood bubbled on her lips.

Stanislav traveled down until he was kneeling right by Natasha's head on the steps. The extra guards still hadn't shown up. He made a show of pulling out a sharp, thin stilleto, albeit not as long as the one that had managed to catch Steve, but it looked just as deadly.

"And yet, you still did not come close enough." This time, his words were in Russian, only for her ears.

"Don't... touch her." Steve's voice was weak, yet filled with a threat he could not back up. They both knew it was just empty words laced with fear. This time, he was the one left with cold panic gripping at his heart. The Russian terrorist chuckled, but it was drenched with dark humor.

"And what, my dear Captain, would you do if I did?" And then the stilleto was buried hilt deep into the palm of her hand, pinning it to the floor beneath her. This time, the pain did not waste time with delay.

Her mouth opened in a silent shriek, and her sight blacked out for a brief moment, eyes rolling back into her head.

"No!" Steve's scream bounced off the walls. And suddenly, his hand had gripped the knife still digging into his chest, and had ripped it out. Rage made his vision go red, and he was on the insane man in seconds.

With a look of pure hatred that looked so foreign, yet so righteous, Steve raised the dagger and slammed it into Stanislav's chest. The man choked, and his hands grasped at the blade, trying to rid it from his body, but the Captain's hands held it firmly in place.

As the light began to die from the man's face, a bloody smile curved his lips. He managed one last garbled sentence, before the life left him.

Steve almost wished he knew Russian.

The Captain, forgetting the stabbing pain in his shoulder, forgetting to wonder why the guards hadn't arrived yet, crawled to the fallen Widow. But she had already rolled over to her knees, blood seeping from almost every part of her body. He noticed that the sleek stilleto had been yanked out and tossed to the side in a mess of red. Her eyes were unfocused.

"Natasha." His voice cracked, and her head turned toward him. He noticed the muscle in her jaw tightening. Something flashed across her face, something the Captain recognized. Something he didn't expect her to have at a time like this.

Determination.

The Black Widow pushed off the ground, hand braced and shaking against the wall for support. She almost fell back down the flight of stairs, but her leg, the one without the bullet in it, slid behind to steady her.

Finally, they heard footsteps sounding in the halls, aggressive commands being shouted in Russian from above the staircase. For a split second, she had allowed herself to believe it was backup, that Fury had actually been successful in sending a rescue force. But of course, he hadn't, and they were alone.

After all, the backup wouldn't have even been for her. It would've been for the Captain. She wasn't a super soldier, or a hero, or even a green monster. She was simply an asset, an expendable. Replaceable.

Natasha breathed in deeply, blood dripping down her face from a minor head wound she had recieved earlier on. She willed herself to focus on that particular wound alone, trying to fool herself into believing that it was the only one, that her body was just tired, not bleeding out.

"We can make it. We're going to get out of here." Her voice came out firm despite the shake of her hands. Her hard gaze fell on him, and she outstretched an arm to him. "Get up. We have a family to get back to."

Steve, still bent on one knee and clutching his heart with a broken hand, stared up at her in disbelief. She was crazy. The blood loss was affecting her judgment, she was delirious. Yet, a part of him believed her, because what other hope did he have to hold on to? The faces of the Avengers flashed in his mind, and he realized she was right. They were a family. A messed up, dysfunctional, and utterly weird family, but a family all the same.

So he reached out his hand and grasped her wrist, pulling himself up. They gave each other a long, understanding look, hands still connected. He nodded once, briefly intertwining their fingers and giving hers a strong squeeze. It was all she needed.

She pulled out her last grenade, pulled the pin with her teeth (the only part of her not currently aching or broken) and sent it flying into the mass of guards rushing to ambush them. This time, they didn't wait for the area to be completely secure. They pushed in as soon as the blast went off, sheilding their eyes from plaster and debris, and using the smoke as a cover. Natasha took off, pulling the Captain around the first turn behind her with a firm grip on his wrist.

Their pace was laborious and incredibly painful. With each step, she found it harder and harder to block out the pain messages being sent from all three gun wounds, and Steve kept stumbling next to her, no doubt being hindered by the deep hole beside his heart that only stretched wider as they ran.

She slowed at the second turn to fire the last of her magazine at the gaining men. They dropped like flies. Her arm hurt from the recoil, but like everything else, she ignored it. Or attempted to.

Sweat mixed with her blood, and she felt it drenching her hair, her collarbone, her knees. This was over exertion at its finest for the both of them, but if they were going to go down, they'd go down fighting. Natasha didn't want her last glimpse of life to be of a run down, dirty building with explosion burns marring the walls and the floor littered with enemies.

By the final turn, Steve was sure he was no longer breathing. He was almost positive that he didn't have any blood left to leak. But this was the homestretch, and if he had survived a plane crash into a frozen landscape with less than five percent chance or living, he'd be damned if he met his end here in an empty hallway at the hands of men he could snap like a twig should he have been at his normal, healthy state.

So by the final hallway, an emergency exit door just ahead, Steve found himself tugging Natasha along instead. They were tripping over themselves again and again, but everytime, the other was there to become a support, become their rock. The only thing that kept them going was the reminder that they had a family waiting for them, and the others would be so, so mad if they didn't even bothered to say goodbye.

And finally, they reached the door, more of crashing into it then actually pushing it open.

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek when her thigh smacked into the doorpost. Gunshots followed their backs, and the guards weren't far behind, but they had made it out, and they were alive. The crisp night air of Japan greeted them, and they instantly felt relief, if even for a moment.

And then, they were upon them. But not to kill, no. Just for revenge. For the vengeance of their Great Leader that they had no doubt found dead in the hallway.

Steve kept his grasp on the Widow's wrist, even when he felt two bullets pierce into his foot and hip, and even when they both fell to the ground curled up in a lame attempt to protect themselves.

Natasha didn't once allow her eyes to close, even when her own blood replaced her tears and snaked down in rivulets across her cheeks. This was the end. But they had done it. They had refused to back down, refused to give up. They had escaped, gained their freedom, although it was only for seconds, all without the aid of SHIELD and its strict orders and selfish intentions.

They had done it for their family, their friends, their Avengers.

A kick caught her hard in the side, right on the bullet wound, and Natasha sucked in a breath, trying with all her might not to cry. These men could take her life, but never her pride, her dignity.

She was bleeding out. And somehow, she knew that the Captain had bled out long ago. His hand on her wrist was a comfort, but a cold one. The knife wound was too close to his heart. She knew that he was going to die much faster than her. Hell, that wound should've killed him the moment it struck. She guessed that's what the serum was for.

But he was still human, and she was not as untouchable as they said. And the darkness closed in faster and faster with each stab, bullet, kick, and punch that flew their way.

It was almost, but not quite, laughable at how irony worked. Here she was, still clinging to the last tendril of life she had, a regular ex-Russian assassin that was completely unimportant. And there lied the great Captain America, leader of a nation, hope to a country, and his lifeline was moments from being cut, moments from sending him falling into a dark pit of unknown, of death.

A guard pushed the barrel of his gun right into her temple, the hot metal scorching her skin. She heard Steve grunt as he recieved the same treatement. Other guards cheered and spit at them, Russian insults cutting at her ears. It was funny how without their leader, all order had suddenly been lost.

"You have taken our Master, our Government. For this, you will pay the ultimate price." His Russian words, although meant to cause terror, did not strike up anything besides rebelliousness in the Widow's heart.

She stared defiantly straight into his eyes as the guard stood above her. She felt the Captain's hand once again lock with hers. It gave her the courage to never break the stare, but accept the challenge, literally staring death right in the face.

His finger twitched on the trigger.

_"Well I'm back in black! Yes I'm back in black!"_

The guards all looked up in confusion as music blasted from above. Natasha almost smiled.

A streak of bright red and yellow was streaking straight towards them. The guards, including the one who had just about been ready to put a bullet through Natasha's head, all trained their guns skyward and shot like mad. But they didn't stand a chance when the armor's shoulder part opened, and revealed fifty tiny bullets that suddenly launched out, hitting their targets right on the bullseye.

All the guards that were in immediate distance from Natasha and Steve dropped to the ground.

The figure landed flashily, training its glowing palms and hundreds of other advanced weapons on the other bewildered guards just exiting the building. A deceivingly casual filled voice crackled through the mask, but Natasha could here the dark anger just below the surface. Her vision fizzed but she remained barely conscious enough to hear the familiar tone pound in her ears whose attitude, for once, was welcomed.

"Looks like you guys have been giving my ol' pals Spidey and Spangles over here a rough time." Fifty more bullets found their victims. "Let's party."

Her vision blacked.

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Author's Note: Super long chapter to make up for the delay... Hope you guys liked it, and sorry again for the cliffhanger...kinda.

Natasha is beginning to show a lot more of her feelings for the team in this chapter. You might find it slightly OC, but let's be honest here... When you've been shot three times and have had your hand impaled, stoicism usually isn't at the top of your "things to maintain" list. Plus, because she is in such a desperate situation, it only makes sense that she'd have the sudden realization/acceptance that she really does care for her team, and that they have become like her family.

Your guys' feedback has been great! I'm happy you're enjoying it! Keep up the reviews!

MI3


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I only own the story's plot, not the characters or main concept.

Sorry for such a long wait! But at least it's finally summer! :)

MysticFantasy: Thank you!

Muldoon22: Oh, I think you misunderstood my reply to CapsGirl, because she wants a Stasha romance like you too! Haha.

thewitchofthewest: Well... They don't die, I can promise you that!

Qweb: I'm glad you like the action! I was hoping I could pull it off!

Liliththestormgoddess: That actually made me laugh, even if it's at Natasha's expense XD

avengergirl13: Glad you're liking it!

keepcalmandwrite: Oh trust me, Natasha isn't getting let off easy! There will be plenty of team comfort to come :)

Guest: ...No spreken ze Russian, but thanks for the review? (Hopefully it was a nice one...)

Helen: I was sorta aiming for a surprise entrance by Tony, so I'm happy it worked!

Jay: Glad to be of service

alex: Well, I'm gonna keep updating whether you like it or not, but you're welcome to find another story to read :)

RockyLover: I love writing cliffhangers, but I hate when I'm the one reading it XD

(And finally after a bazillion review responses...) Here's the next chapter!

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"Nat...hold...don't let...on..."

"...Thou...much blood..."

"Hawk! Bring the...shoot them down before..."

"Where's the damn...Fury..."

"Backup's here! They're..."

"...Steve's been...transfusion...stabilized...be okay..."

"Tasha!"

"Where's Banner!"

"Her heart!...I can't...flatlining! Get..."

"...don't you dare...now!"

"C'mon, dollface...fuck...pull through..."

"Natasha!"

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

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Her brain hurt. A dull throbbing made her head feel like it was going to explode. Bloody hell.

She felt her brows furrow, mind still fuzzy from... what? Something about a recipe... a serum. Whatever it was, she was too tired to try and remember it now.

Her eyes tentatively cracked open. It was dark. Probably night time. Her throat hurt too. Actually, everything hurt. Her head started feeling dizzy again, and her eye lids were getting heavy. A little more sleep wouldn't harm anyone.

She vaguely remembers a warm weight against both palms before she surrendered to the black.

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The next time she woke up, it was dark again, but she wasn't as disoriented. Too much pain to be unaware.

Her eyes flickered around the room, adjusting to the lighting. She's surprised to find that she is not alone, even if she is the only one awake.

Clint sits to her right, grasping her hand in his lap and slumped against the edge of the bed. Her gaze swivels, and her eyes catch on another bed a few feet away, a large, masculine figure asleep upon it. She's less than surprised to see Tony seated between the beds, one hand covering hers, and the other resting on the sheets of the Captain's medical bed. His mouth is partially open, and a soft snore escapes his lips every few seconds.

If she lifts her head up just slightly, she can see two other decidedly male figures sprawled out near the foot of both cots. Bruce and Thor both are half laying, half sitting on a row of uncomfortable looking chairs that have been set up as a makeshift sleep bunk. Thor keeps twitching as if fighting some battle in his dreams, and the doctor's hair sticks up in all directions probably from consistently running a hand through it, making him look wild in his slumber. A faint beeping is heard from somewhere above her.

All of them look utterly spent, slouched exhaustedly in their seats. She thinks that maybe they had tried to stay up all this time, that maybe they were waiting for her to wake up. She's almost touched. Almost. But then she remembers that feelings are what got her into this mess to begin with, and she tries in vain to rebuild the hardened walls that had once guarded her heart.

And yet, a crack remains in the foundation with every observance she makes from the sleeping occupants in the room. One for how Clint is cradling her hand, thumb poised to brush against her knuckles in comfort even when asleep. One for Thor as he mumbles incoherently, warding off any dangers that threaten her. One for Tony, whose face is soft and devoid of sarcasm as he extends his reach to both companions. One for Bruce and his odd, almost relaxed posture as opposed to his usual nervous, stiff stance. And one for Steve, who is beside her in this pain, this panic, and who stood with her when the rest of her family had been impossibly out of reach.

Natasha thinks that she wants an unfeeling heart, but she knows that one can never just control what they want. They are her new beginning. And her soul longs for this family, for these friends, even if the feelings are dangerous and easily manipulated in their existence. Even though they could also be her end.

But she's beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, the liabilities are worth it.

She stays like that for a long time, gaze switching from one to another, studying each face as they sleep, catalouging every crease, angle, and line. This is the only time she'll get to see this, get to see them all together, and all apart. Each of their masks are off, and all that is left is raw emotion and utter exhaustion. She wants to etch the image of their compassion into her mind forever. She thinks that if it could stay with her forever, then she won't ever forget how to feel. Not again.

Pale light has begun to creep in through the windows when Natasha starts piecing back together the events of her mission. She solves almost everything up until the moment she had ambushed the lab dressed as a guard. After that, it's all fuzzy. All she remembers is blood. Blood on the floor, the walls, in her hair. Blood and pain. But everything else is a blur.

Her eyes close, lips pursed and brow furrowed. There were stairs...smoke... and a dagger...

And then she can see them. She can see the steps in front of her, but when she looks up, the bloody face of a soldier is in her vision. She jumps back, blinks, and suddenly she isn't on the stairs, she's looking at the lab. And there's needles everywhere, scattered on the floor and imbedded in the walls.

Steve's laying down on some kind of metal stretcher, and a needle has appeared in her grip. She remembers this. He had been hurt and unconscious. She needs to inject the adrenaline into his system. Her feet move in a haze, and she raises the needle because all she can think is that she needs to save him, don't let him die, he can't die, save him, _save him_.

But Steve's awake, and he's screaming a blood-chilling, feral screech, and she doesn't know why he's screaming but he's looking right at her hand holding the needle. The terrified, yet somehow enraged look on his face literally hurts her, and she glances at her hand. She knows why he's screaming.

The needle isn't a needle anymore. And she isn't holding it either. It's a thin, long, deadly blade that's completely penetrating her palm. Her mind tickles like she's missing something, but it's overridden with the blatant sense of fear and panic coursing through her.

She has no control of her limbs, and before she can blink, her bloody hand has shot forward and stabbed the knife straight into Steve's heart.

She screams and screams because Steve is dead and his eyes aren't blue, but a sickly grey. She screams because she killed him, it's her fault. She screams until a pull on her wrist is making her other arm raise up. She looks up, and sees a vicious looking man- Stanislav- and he has strings in his hands that are wrapped around her hands. He is laughing and controlling and forcing.

A gun is in her hand, and it's pointing right at her. Natasha wants to pull it away, wants to make it stop, but she doesn't know how, and she can't. For once she isn't breathing, she isn't thinking. She is only feeling. Feeling unbelievable agony.

And his laugh fills her mind. His smile is gruesome, bloody. Her finger is on the trigger. Steve has gone cold under her hand. She wants it to stop stop stop.

The trigger pulls. Her heart stutters. Three shots.

Boom. Boom. _Beep_.

Her eyes shoot open. Somehow her subconscious knows it was a dream, but her mind itself is completely gone. Her vision has gone white and blurry, probably from the rare tears obscuring her sight. She feels people grabbing at her, her arms, her legs, her face. She writhes and screams, scratching at the hands and twisting from their reach.

Slowly her hearing comes back, and she hears familiar voices shouting and pleading, but then she hears the rapid _beep beep beep_ of her heart moniter, and it sounds all too much like the bullets, and she can't help the terror overtaking her body.

Warm hands are grasping her face. She blinks away the tears. Clint is shouting at her, concern and alarm clear in his eyes. Tony, Thor, and Bruce have all taken a side, trying valiantly to hold down her flailing limbs and calm her down. She doesn't have to look to know that they're terrified. Her wide eyes flick to the side and see the Captain sitting upright in his bed, a bandage stretching across his torso. He's tense, and Natasha thinks that he would have been at her side too if he was healthy enough to.

Someone is still screaming. She thinks it might be her. Everything hurts.

A lady in white is by her side, and all Natasha feels is a slight prick in her arm before her body starts going numb. The last thing she sees before everything sinks into the blurred darkness is the worried faces of her teammates, and then, she doesn't see anything.

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The nurse double checks the now unconscious Natasha's monitor and IVs before mentioning something about a sedative and to call her the next time she began panicking.

Bruce hesitantly lets go of the Widow's leg. His heart is racing, and his breathing shallow. He swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth and tries to calm his nerves. Unleashing the other guy would not be a welcome event at the moment.

He and Thor back away from the medical bed, lips pursed and spines rigid. The room is stifling as nobody knows quite what to say or do now.

"Dammit!" Tony all but shouts as he releases Natasha's arm and kicks over the chair he had been sitting in. Bruce can see Clint standing at the side of the bed, his fists clenched and his jaw flexing, but he doesn't move.

"Shit!" A fist slams into the wall. Bruce tries not to jump.

"Stark..." Steve's voice is hoarse from where he is sitting. "Tony, just- just calm down. She's okay for now, and everyone just needs to take a minute."

The Captain's eyes briefly flick to Bruce, but he isn't offended. If anything, he's grateful. The other guy is notorious for popping up in chaotic situations, and Bruce knows that he could use some time to collect himself.

Thor crosses the room, laying a heavy hand on the seething man's shoulder. "Do not fret, Man of Iron. The Widow is not weak. We stand together in this fight of spirit."

The billionaire breathes deeply and his shoulders visibly relax. He turns and picks up the chair before taking his seat in stony silence. The others follow suit, collapsing into their chairs. It's quiet for along time, each lost in their own thoughts.

The silence is broken when Clint sighs heavily and sinks into his seat tiredly.

"It was different." Bruce, along with they others, turn their puzzled gazes to him. They patiently wait for him to elaborate. It's a couple minutes before he does.

"She's always had night terrors, or nightmares. Whatever they are. Even on overnight missions, I'd wake up to her yelling from the bed by mine, and I would have to force her to snap out of it. It was always the same nightmare. She'd scream about the Red Room, and everything else that had traumatized her as a girl. Horrible, unspeakable things."

Bruce felt a chill run up his spine. How had Clint been able to handle so many of her terrifying episodes?

"But this one..." His voice trailed off. "This one was different. Worse. She's been through a lot in the past. Torture, pain, manipulation... But I don't think she's ever had a nightmare from a mission before. They've always only been things from her background, never so current."

Clint rubbed his face tiredly with a hand. "I guess I just thought she was immune to it by now, all the blood and fear. I thought that she wasn't effected by it. I guessed wrong."

"Her trauma could be pretty serious." Bruce's doctor side cut in. "I mean, doesn't it seem weird that Natasha is suffering from nightmares while Steve seems to sleep okay?"

Steve fisted a hand in his sheets, his brows furrowed. "I don't know." His voice was rough and quiet. "I was unconscious for half of the mission, and even during the half when I was awake, I was operating blind. I was just doing whatever she told me to. While Natasha... I have no idea what she saw before I woke up, what she was going through. She was much more physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted than I had been. Not to mention the pressure she had from Fury and SHIELD. Even injury wise, she had it worse then me, especially since I technically heal faster."

His guilt almost radiated off him in waves.

Tony let out a harsh breath. He shifted restlessly for a moment in his seat, before leaning forward, setting his elbows on the end of the chair's armrests.

"Nobody's blaming you, Cap, so don't try and turn the responsibility on yourself." Steve remained silent, and Tony plowed on, his words spilling out faster, angrier. "What I really want to know is what the hell Fury was thinking sending Natasha into this mission without any goddamn backup. What the hell was he accomplishing in basically setting her up for failure? We aren't stupid, and neither is she. Princess might be a top assassin, but even _her_ skillset is below standard for an assignment of this caliber."

"What, were we supposed to just take whatever SHIELD feeds us? Just keep our mouths shut and not question it? Sit and look pretty while our teammate is just barely escaping death? No. This is bullshit. Fury knew, _he knew_, what Natasha was going to be facing, and even if he didn't, it doesn't take a genius like me to have a plan B in case of a screw up. Whatever Fury was doing, he was wrong. Wrong to send her in alone, wrong to assume she could finish this out without help, and wrong to act like her life was expendable."

An uneasy silence picked back up. No one met his gaze. It was like he was some kind of rabid animal, and the second you made eye contact, he would go awol.

Bruce sighed. "I'm not disagreeing with you, Tony, but what are we supposed to do about it? Just march in and demand that SHIELD let us know exactly where she, and for the record, Clint, go and what they're doing all the time? We all know that won't happen. Their missions are confidential for a reason, and SHIElD is pretty uptight about that kind of stuff."

"Not to mention Natasha would hate to feel like we're babysitting her." Clint added from his seat by the redhead's bed. "Hell, she already hates it when I get too 'overbearing' on a mission. Besides, Fury-"

"Fuck Fury." Tony interrupted. His chair creaked as he shifted again. "You know what? Fuck him. He's proven that all he cares about is his little, hotshot agency and the trophy group of superheroes he oh so proudly put together.

"You wanna know why he held back any help from Natasha?" His voice grew even more tense.

"Tony, I'm sure Fury wasn't trying to kill her off, if that's what you're thinking." Clint replied tiredly.

The billionare ignored him. "Because, to him, to SHIELD, she is _replaceable_."

He sat straight up in his seat and pointed a finger right at Thor. "She isn't a god from some other universe." His finger swung around to Steve, "Or some kind of supersoldier." Then to Bruce, "A ten ton invincible monster." He pointed at himself, finger digging into his arc reactor. "Not even a guy with money and a fancy iron suit.

"She isn't one of his precious superheroes. She's just a person, just like you." He was pointing at Clint. "Why would Fury need to focus on protecting an asset that he could find and train anywhere? Sure, you guys are both unique and exceptional with your guns and arrows, but you're still just a couple of assassins. Nothing special. At least, not to him."

That uneasy silence was back again, and even heavier than before. Bruce's eyebrows crinkled in thought. What Tony said was true, and it made sense, but was Fury really as heartless and cold as he said? Somehow, Bruce didn't quite believe that Fury would be more careless with his agents than his 'superheroes' just because they were quote and quote "expendable."

Before he could speak up, Natasha's heart monitor spiked. Her lips twitched, and her brow furrowed in her sleep. She murmured something indistinguishable and her shoulders jerked.

All eyes watched as Clint immediately bends forward, tightly grasping her hand in his and stroking a hand over her bright red hair. He started whispering nonsensical words of comfort in effort to calm her down. Tony reached over to wrap a hand around her other one and gave it a squeeze. She twisted twice underneath the sheets, sweat forming on her forehead.

And then their eyes turned to Steve as he grit his teeth and pushed laboriously on the bed until his feet were hovering over the edge. With a little grunt of effort, he stood and began to shuffle slowly over to the unconscious woman. Wordlessly, Bruce pushed a chair over next to Tony's. The Captain slumped into it, his shoulder throbbing. But he dismissed the mild pain and leans his elbows onto the bed, his fingers lightly playing with a few strands of her hair.

Her grip on Clint and Tony's hands loosen, and her breathing gradually becomes less frantic as the nightmare begins to fade.

Eventually, all five of them are sitting at an edge of the bed, just staring glassy-eyed and somber into the distance. They think of everything and nothing, wondering how such different and messed up people could become such a dysfunctional, yet needed family. They just sit and exist, listening to Clint's hushed words that are meant to comfort Natasha, but somehow fall into that little lonely place in each of their hearts.

* * *

Author's Note: This. Was. Such. A. Long. Chapter... I was planning on cutting it in half, but then it would've been too short. Hope you guys liked it anyways!

So what do you think? Think Tony's overreacting, or that he actually has a valid point?

MI3


	5. Chapter 5

So sorry for the delay, guys! My sibling is getting married tomorrow, so my schedule lately has been super hectic.

**Twilight-Narnia-Charmed**: Updated! :)

**avengergirl13**: I think Tony and the guys are super cute when they're being all protective ;)

**RockyLover**: I'm glad you agree with Tony that she's pretty expendable. As awesome as she is, Natasha would prob be the first to go due mostly to her background.

**keepcalmandwrite**: Thanks so much! I'm happy you're enjoying it!

**lucybrad33**: Thanks for the encouragement! :)

**MysticFantasy**: To be honest, my opinion of Fury stands somewhere in the middle. I think he can be cold hearted at times, but that's also his job! Thanks for adding your opinion!

**alex**: OHMYGOSH. I totally took it the wrong way, haha. I'm so sorry! XD I was kinda confused at first when I read you're review because it really could've gone either way, and when I was writing my response, I was like, "Huh, what if they weren't trying to be rude?...Nah..." That's so embarrassing! Sorry about that!

**AlicinhaMB99**: I'm actually glad that you disagree with Tony! Personally, he sorta is overreacting, but I also think he has a few valid points. And yes, Natasha technically is a supersoldier, but I wasn't sure if that detail was included in the movie version, which this fic is based off of!

* * *

"You can't be serious."

"I may be a sarcastic asshole, but once in a while I am capable of maintaining a meaningful conversation you know."

Natasha shot Tony a dark glare from where she was sitting in the recovery bed. She had been fully conscious and aware since about 9:04 PM last night, and from the moment she had woken up, she was itching to get out of this place. Something about hospitals just creeped her out. Maybe it was the too-clean appearance, or the too-cheery nurses, or maybe even the fact that underneath all the sterile white, this place was too-miserable of a building. Either way, Natasha just wanted out. All there was in a hospital was despair and pain and death.

The other Avengers were standing off to the sides, or sitting in Steve's case, nervously observing the interaction. It was mid-afternoon, five days after the mission, and only around fifteen hours since Natasha had woken up that Tony had brought up the subject now at hand.

The Black Widow's eyes narrowed a fraction, setting her ice cold gaze on the arrogant man in front of her. "Stark, I can't just leave SHIELD, and neither can Clint."

The billionaire flicked his hand carelessly. "Sure you can. All you gotta do is pack up your stuff, flip Fury the bird, and walk out of there with your dignity. Simple."

Before Natasha could bite out a snarky retort, Clint sighed and crossed his arms tightly against his chest, leaning on a nearby wall. "It's not that easy, Tony. We're under a contract."

"And unless Fury agrees to let us loose, we aren't going anywhere." She finished off. Her lips pursed in an expression that was equal to anyone else's portrayal of utter frustration and anger. "Besides, who are you to tell us what to do? Maybe I don't want to leave SHIELD."

Tony scoffed loudly. "That's a load of bull. First of all, Fury can't make you guys stay, contract or no. I'd like to see him try and blackmail two of the best master assassins in the world into submission. And second, why would you want to stay in the first place? Honestly, think about it. What does SHIELD have to offer you? Training? Yeah right. Protection? Please. Money? Don't even get me started on that."

There was a silence. Natasha fisted her hands into the sheets, eyes lowering to her lap in thought. What did SHIELD have to offer her? There had to be something. It seemed much more like she was the one offering something to SHIELD. Stark couldn't possibly be right. No. He wasn't. He didn't know a damn thing about her life, about what she had been working for for so _was_ something SHIELD offered her.

She snapped her gaze up to stare right at him, her face tight with regret. "Redemption."

The silence somehow became heavier. They could see it in her eyes, unraveling like a ribbon of black. The haunted look of a young girl forced into adulthood. The desperate plea of a child wanting a home. The fierce glare of a misguided girl seeking approval, success. The horrified stare of a woman dyed red, red, red. The muted cry of her attempts at atonement.

And all these broken pieces, all these shards of glass, came together to create the cracked and shattered mask that was Natasha Romanoff.

"You may not like it, but I'm not asking for your permission." Her voice was deadly calm. "They have given me a shot at something I didn't think I deserved. A second chance. I'm not about to turn that away, especially not when things get a little rough."

She turned to Clint, a mixture of despondency and hope underneath the hardened front. "You understand, don't you? You get that this isn't about safety; it's about recovery."

The stony expression fell slightly, and he allowed an almost unnoticeable smile to curve his lips. Clint nodded. "Course I do, Tasha. You know that I know."

A flicker of relief flitted across her face, before it returned to its normal solidness. She faced Tony, determination in every curve and plane of her features. "I'm not leaving SHIELD."

"The Lady of Russia has a will of stone, Man of Iron." Thor's amused voice bounced off the walls. "I do not think it wise for you to continue this argument."

Bruce chuckled, absentmindedly scratching his forehead with a hand. "Thor's right, Tony. I don't think she's gonna budge."

The 'Man of Iron' sighed in frustration. "I didn't want to have to come to this, but..." He reached a hand into his back pocket and pulled out a five hundred dollar bill, waving it enticingly in front of the redhead's unfazed eyes. "Care to change your mind now?"

She crossed her arms.

This time, a stack of green came out. "How bout now?"

Natasha rolled her eyes annoyedly.

His checkbook was pulled out. "Name a price! I dare you!"

She didn't even blink. "That's one challenge I'm not willing to accept."

The billionaire, defeated, slid his checkbook back into his pocket. He exhaled a breath full of irritation. His demeanor suddenly changed, and his back straightened to full height, arms crossed and eyes meeting hers deadon. "Look, Princess." His voice was serious, void of his usual attitude. "I don't care if SHIELD offers you the whole damn world. This isn't good for you. You obviously are perfectly fine playing Fury's puppet, but I'm telling you this right now; you're a part of this family, no matter how dysfunctial it is. So, something better change, whether it's your terms of service or whatever, in order to make sure both you, and Birdman over there, are in the best care. At least, as best as two hitman can afford."

Natasha saw the others nod their heads in solemn agreement, and she was once again completely thrown out of her comfort zone. How could they actually genuinely care about her and Clint's wellbeing? This whole concept of family and friendship was totally foreign to her, and she was baffled at how open the lot of them were. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and her eyes narrowed in careful contemplation. "I don't know, Stark. There really isn't much to be said about this. Missions are missions, and you can't complain about them being dangerous. It's inevitable."

"But that doesn't mean Fury can't take some precautions to make sure you're safe." For the first time throughout the conversation, Steve voiced his opinion. The redhead's gaze snapped to his. "I hate to say it, but Tony's right," -the Avengers ignored the playboy's fist pump of victory here- "and Fury needs to arrange something that ensures you'll at least be relatively safe. You can't argue that you were ridiculously outmatched on that last mission."

The woman in question grit her teeth. They didn't get the point. She didn't deserve to be safe, she didn't deserve to be looked after, and she certainly didn't deserve their concern. Danger, blood, emptiness; this is what she deserved.

But the thing about the Avengers, that she knew firsthand, was that once they had something in their sights, they were damn stubborn about it. She could protest and fight it all she wanted, but it wouldn't change what they thought to be right.

Natasha refrained from hissing out of vexation. She slumped down in the bed, pointedly turning her back to them and shoving the scratchy covers over her shoulder. "Yeah, well, I'm tired. Do what you want."

There was an awkward pause, the others not quite sure how to react to her blunt attitude. A sigh escaped from Clint. "Tash, I know this is out of your comfort zone, but whether you like it or not, we're a family."

It was easier for him. His backstory, although sad, was nothing like hers. She stared ahead at the wall, gripping the sheets closer to her body. Footsteps sounded behind her as they filed out of the room. Just before the door closed, she heard one pair stop and turn to face her.

"Call us children, ma'am, but we want to protect you because we love you." There was a click as Steve closed the door.

Natasha bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut. If only he knew the real reason she said that love was for children. It wasn't because she believed it was true, no. It was because she believed that it was just another thing forbidden to her. Just like how she was forced to leave behind her childhood, she was forced to forget about love. She had grown up too fast, all the while believing that love only knew pain and bondage. It was imbedded in her thoughts, her lifestyle, permanently branded into her heart. It's never easy to just let go of something you've held onto since your first memories.

But those boys were determined to dig down deep, burrowing their way even farther under those distorted beliefs and uproot them. They were like a tick, stubbornly clinging onto her poison and refusing to let go, no matter how much she thrashed and bit and screamed.

This whole family thing, this whole _feelings _thing, was so completely foreign to her. And it was like a totally different kind of battle that she had no idea how to fight. She was outmatched, outgunned, and terrifically outwitted. There was no other option than to give up and let them have their victory. Those boys had managed to do something that no one else had.

They had gotten her, the world renowned Black Widow, hardcore and serious Natasha Romanoff, to surrender.

And surprisingly, this was one battle she wasn't too upset to let them win.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Captain?" The Director's voice sounded striking in the small SHIELD office.

Steve straightened his back, meeting Fury's gaze steadily. For once, he wasn't intimidated by the man who seemed to know and see everything. No sweaty palms, no uncomfortable twitching, and no awkward glances. This time, he knew what he was fighting for, and he knew he would do whatever it took to get it.

"Sir, I have a request."

Fury leaned back in his black chair, his one visible eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "A request?"

Steve clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, it's more of a negotiation."

The Director crossed his arms in interest, and nodded to the supersoldier. "Shoot."

* * *

Author's Note: Once again, super sorry for the delay! This chapter came out... eh, okay I guess. Sorta left you on a cliffy there, but not one that'll make you too anxious, I hope!

Who do you think is more expendable: Natasha or Clint? (That's right, I'm making you guys choose! Muahah.)

MI3


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

So, some of you actually answered my question, which was: _**Who is more expendable, Clint or Natasha?**_And the tally came to this: A tie with **3** votes for Natasha, and** 3** for Clint. There was also **3** people who couldn't decide! Geez, guys. It's almost like you planned for it to be evened out.

Hope06: Two reviews in one day? Sweet! I agree! All family's have their little quirks, so really, the Avengers family is quite normal! You know, besides the whole heroes, saving the world thing. ;)

Rocky Lover: I really can't think of any other archers! That's troubling... And don't worry, this is the last chapter, so no more cliffies!

Qweb: Exactly. If someone offered me a second chance, I wouldn't be able to just walk away.

keepcalmandwrite: Thanks! :)

MysticFantasy: Sorry if that question seemed a bit cruel, haha.

BlueRoseRabbit: Something to think about ;)

xXMidnightBloom: I'm so happy that you liked this story! Your comment meant a lot to me!

Muldoon22: I agree. Natasha has much more personal back story that attaches you to her character.

Here's the final installment of this story! Enjoy! :)

* * *

1. Thor

Her red curls fly behind her as she dashes through the abandoned alleyways. Her heart is pumping at a solid pace. The moon shines brightly from above, obstructed only by a few stray clouds, and the light glints off of her locked and loaded gun.

She turns sharply to the left, running straight into a quiet field that lays behind the little town. Trying her hardest not to pant too loudly, she scans for any kind of cover.

Someone shouts behind her and she whips around just in time to avoid a bullet to her head. In seconds, her own bullet is imbedded in his skull.

There's a rustle beside her, and she sees a large man ramming straight for her. She fires the trigger, but nothing happens. Her gun is jammed. The man doesn't seem to have a gun, so Natasha swivels around and leads him in a hot pursuit. With a burst of energy, she sprints to a nearby tree, runs along its side, and flips back behind the man. Her leg snaps out and trips him to the ground, and one sucker punch to the head knocks him out.

The Black Widow stands to her feet, pulling out her gun and trying to fix it in time. But she isn't fast enough, and suddenly a meaty arm is wrapped around her throat. Natural panic surges through her at the choked off air supply, but she cuts it off. Panic is the best way to get herself killed.

She twists in the mans arms, just beginning to bring her legs up to swing herself over his head, when instantly, the man releases her.

Natasha rolls to the ground and raises her head to see the man being punched hard in the chest by a massive, caped figure. He goes flying halfway across the field, before tumbling to the ground.

"Do not touch my warrior friend again, unless you wish to face the wrath of Mjolnir." His deep voice booms throughout the clearing. His massive frame turns to face her. "Hello, woman of widows," He says in a friendly, all too happy tone, and she catches the quick flash of teeth before more men surround him.

She allows herself a secret smile before charging headfirst into the group of men.

Of course she could've handled the situation herself. It's not like she hasn't been stuck in worse predicaments than a simple headlock. But it was the fact that someone had been there to help her in the first place that made a little trickle of something light flood through her.

* * *

2. Banner

How she even got herself into this situation, she didn't know. But here she was, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, shivering her ass off in the snow, and out of bullets. Not to mention the pack of wild dogs about to eat her alive.

Humans, she could handle. No sweat. They're clumsy and often times only fatal if they have a weapon. And if all else fails, appeal to human reason and desires.

Animals, especially animals twice her size with sharp pointy teeth and razor sharp claws, were a whole different story. There was no seducing or tricking her way out of this one.

Natasha set her gaze to the ground. Number one rule when having a face off with an animal; don't make eye contact. She crouched as low as possible without having to lay down, and braced herself. Slowly, as to not alarm the dogs into pouncing, she slid the knife from her thick coat's pocket, and gripped it tightly.

The wolves growled viciously, snarling at her and closing in with careful steps. She tried vainly not to flinch at the loud barks coming from each direction.

There was the sound of crunching snow behind her, and she knew that this was it. Her legs locked, and she prepared for the oncoming attack of teeth and claws. But then she heard rotors spinning rapidly high above her, a whistling sound through the air, and then the ground shook and she was thrown onto her side.

A loud roar from right beside her caused Natasha to cover her ears. She watched with surprised relief as the dogs scrambled away, whimpering and tails tucked between their legs. Good riddance.

The Hulk continued roaring after them, taking a few aggressive steps forward. No one gets to eat his tiny friends. He grunted as the last pathetic puppy ran away. His massive head swung to the little woman in the snow. "Spider good?"

He saw her smile and nod. "Yeah, thanks for that."

The Hulk felt happy. The little spider no longer was scared of him.

* * *

3. Stark

"Just don't do anything stupid," is what she had told him _multiple_ times prior to the mission. And what did he do? He did something stupid. Many things stupid.

Natasha ducked behind the crate, and shot off several more rounds at the men chasing Tony, who had just come running out of the huge boat docked in the bay. He was clutching a small briefcase in one hand and covering his head with the other.

It was early morning, and they were in some bay in Mexico, tracking down a wealthy gang leader who had planted three bombs across the city that were set to go off sometime in the evening, or so their intel said. But they had needed the plans that told them where the bombs were located in order to stop the acts of terrorism.

Tony had insisted on being the one to go undercover and retrieve the plans, mostly because it would be less suspicious for a man to go under than a woman. But she suspected it was because the means of this mission hit a little too close to home with the whole Stanislav investigation. It was Stark's way of protecting her. The dweeb.

He was supposed to do this in a more professional way; sneak in, pass security, obtain plans, get out. But of course he had to do it flashier; waltz in, hack security, take plans, run out.

"I got the case, Tasha! I got the-crap!" He tripped as a bullet whipped by his side, but regained his footing and kept sprinting towards her. Suddenly the amount of bullets being shot at him multiplied as ten other men appeared from the boat. His eyes widened and he pumped his legs faster. "No me gusta! No me gusta!"

Natasha grit her teeth and fired shots, hitting her targets perfectly with each bullet. Tony finally slid behind the crate five feet beside her, tossing the briefcase to her side. She paused in her shooting and kicked over the bulky, red and gold case she had with her over to him. Within seconds, he was fully armored and rising to his feet, mask settled on his face.

"I told you not to be stupid, Stark!" She ground out as she trained an expert aim on more oncoming men.

His short laugh sounded slightly robotic through the mask. His jets powered on, and he released a few heat seeking missiles from his arm. "Learn to live a little, darling." And then he was in the sky, firing charged shots from above.

She rolled her eyes, suppressing the foreign feeling of excitement. Well, if not professional, this mission sure had been fun.

* * *

4. Barton

"Name?"

"Tom and Lacy Jones." She smiles, one hand wrapped casually around his bicep. The man checks a name off the list and waves them in. Natasha picks up the edge of her full length, navy blue dress.

Clint leads her straight onto the crowded dance floor, positioning one hand on her hip and the other holding her left hand. He quirks his lips into a crooked half smile. "Now what does this remind you of?"

She allows a little chuckle. "Budapest?"

He grins and twirls her. "Finally we agree on something about Budapest."

Natasha shakes her head and scans the room. "At least this time you can actually dance."

Clint scoffs incredulously. "I dance just fine!"

"You do now." Her eyes are light and alive. "But you used to be like a freaking hippo."

He laughs. "I can't have been that bad."

This time, she twirls him. "Don't worry. I've taught you well."

Maniacal laughter fills the ballroom, and a gunshot rings off the walls. People begin scrambling and screaming, tripping over their dresses and shoes in haste to escape. A man walks slowly through the room, firing random shots into the air and shouting nonsense about taking over the world, or something generic like that.

"And that's our cue."

They spin back to back; him grabbing the two guns from the holsters in his jacket, and she revealing the handgun strapped to her thigh. She cocks her gun as he secures a magazine in his.

He throws her a grin over his shoulder. "Yup. Just like Budapest."

She smirks. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

They fire.

* * *

5. Rogers

She's heaving.

Her wrists are scratched, ribs bruised, head spinning. Malicious grins, beefy fists, stabbing blades. She's surrounded, and everything's closing in.

She tries to move, but nothing's happening. Her heart pounds. Something's wrong. This isn't right. Where is she? Who are they? What's going on?

Insane cackling and a grubby hand fills her vision. She tries to scream.

She jolts awake, and for a second, she's almost positive she's still in her dream. She's breathing hard through her nose, and a face comes into view.

Steve blinks. His hair is ruffled, and he has his flannel pajama pants on and a tank. "You were having a bad dream."

She tries to relax. This isn't a war, and she is safe.

The large screen T.V. is quietly playing in the background, casting dim light in the spacey room of Stark tower. She must've fallen asleep watching it. Steve is still crouched in front of her, and she stares confusedly back. He gives her a sheepish grin and nods pointedly to her hand which she realizes is clasped tightly around his wrist. With a muttered apology, she lets go.

He stands back up to give her space, and she hoists herself to a sitting position. A scratchy blanket (she swears it wasn't there when she fell asleep) falls off of her shoulders. Her head is pounding relentlessly.

"You okay?" Steve asks worriedly. She nods and he smiles sympathetically. Without another word, he walks to the mini-fridge at the back of the room.

When he returns, he's produced a container of vanilla ice cream and two spoons. He takes a seat next to her and hands her the container and spoon. She smiles. It's small, but he sees it.

So, they sit together in the dark room in their pajamas, not talking, taking turns passing ice cream between them, and watching old reruns of Friends on the T.V. She's warm and happy and with a companion. It's a moment she feels like living in forever.

Later, when she wakes up to the Captain's arm cushioning her head, the T.V. still running in the early morning light, and an empty container of ice cream laying on the floor, she'll wonder how such a simple gesture could make her feel so full inside.

.

.

.

1. The Avengers

"Stop babying me!" She yells into the com by her ear. Her hand releases a knife and it imbeds itself into the alien at her right. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

Another onslaught of aliens head toward her, and she pulls out her guns, but right before she can actually fire a bullet, a dozen mini missiles fly in from above and knock them out. She almost shrieks in frustration, but settles for growling, "Tony!" into her comm. A hearty laugh reaches her ears, and she has to count to ten to calm herself.

"It's not funny! I mean it!" She almost stomps her foot childishly... almost. He's been doing this for the past ten minutes. Every time she's about to get some action and fighting done, he swoops in and fends off any attackers. It's infuriating. What's worse is that she can hear Thor and Clint both laughing with him (at her) from their positions!

Steve appears at her side, shield in hand. "C'mon Tony, don't be such a jerk. She'll kick your ass later if you don't stop."

"Alright, alright, Captain Party-Pooper." Natasha sees him fly to the other side of the fight and shoots Steve a thankful look before charging into the fray.

This time, when she fights, it's different. She's learned a thing or two from her fellow Avengers about war.

She's learned from Thor that just because you can do it by yourself, doesn't mean you have to do it by yourself.

From Banner, she learned that sometimes your fears aren't as scary as you make them out to be.

Tony showed her that working doesn't have to be all serious and stressful, but it can be fun too.

Clint taught her that there are always people you can count on.

She learned from Steve that sometimes the little things are what's really important.

To sum it all up, they're a team. And they'll always have each other's backs. It's funny how for all of her life, Natasha believed that friendship and teamwork were overrated, that they just become burdens that drag you down from success, but now, she knows that friendship is what makes you stronger, and that success is overrated.

Huh. Maybe all those lessons are applicable to life in general. Maybe it is possible to turn your life around. And maybe, just maybe, she's already redeemed herself.

* * *

2. The Family

A scream launches from her throat, before being cut off by the water she's thrown into. Underwater it's quiet. Peaceful. Blurred. Her hair floats gently around her, and bubbles explode towards the surface. Soothing, but if you aren't careful, it can be deadly.

Exactly how she used to prefer her life.

But lately, she's been finding herself craving the noise, the chaos, the messiness. Craving every little piece that's become a part of them; of her. The arguments, the laughter, the clumsiness. Everything that she had previously avoided like the plague.

She feels the bottom skim her feet, and with her last breath, she propels herself up. Her lungs are grateful for the sudden air, and she blinks the water from her eyes. She picks up the sound of decisively male laughter, and sees all five potential perpetrators standing at the edge, smiling down at her.

It had come as a surprise; one moment she was adjusting the strap of her bikini top so it wasn't rubbing irritatingly against her neck, and the next, someone's arms had picked her up and dropped her into the extravagant, fifteen feet deep pool.

She tried her best to hold back the smile threatening to bloom across her face, and half-glared up at the men. "Which one of you was it?" She questions, treading the water. All five begin pointing at each other, barely suppressed grins curving their lips.

Natasha glares pointedly at Tony, who raises his hands in surrender. "As much as I'd like to take credit for this one, I can't say it was me, Spidey."

Her gaze moves to Clint, and he winks back. "You know I would've 'fessed up already if it had been me."

The three left are all smiling, as if challenging her to read their minds. She narrows her eyes. "Thor?"

The immortal chuckles loudly, but shakes his blonde head. "I'm afraid not, fellow Natasha! Try again!"

The two in question meet her stare with innocent expressions. She's surprised, cause both are shy, and she hadn't expected either to pull off a stunt like that. "Steve."

He smiles, "Nope." His chin jerks in the direction of the doctor, and Natasha feels her eyebrows shoot upward.

"Bruce?!" The usually quiet man bursts out into a clutter of laughter, and he scrambles away from the edge, out of her vengeful reach.

"You were just standing there, practically begging to be thrown in!" He managed to say through his chuckles. Natasha couldn't help but smile at his mirth. After months spent with them, he had finally loosened up, and it was nice to see a glimpse of the real Bruce Banner.

Natasha took advantage of his distractedness, and whispered harshly to Clint and Thor. Her calls had gotten the attention of both Tony and Steve as well, and she flicked her eyes rapidly to Bruce. They grinned wickedly and caught on. Without wasting any time, the four men each claimed one of the doctor's limbs and hoisted him up into the air.

Bruce struggled in vain, choking on his laughter. "W-Wait a minute! I haven't even changed yet!" The others just kept smiling, obviously not caring that he was in khakis, leather shoes, and a nice button up shirt. The curly haired brunette frantically strained against their hold. "What if the-the other guy comes out?!"

The four paused at the edge of the pool, and Bruce let out a breath of relief-but then Tony said, "Eh, we've seen worse," and he was propelled into the water.

Natasha smiled and laughed contentedly as Bruce resurfaced, not even a hint of green, and the boys began wildly wrestling each other in a battle to throw one another in. She watched in amusement, and some other kind of emotion she couldn't quite put a name to. It felt all warm and comforting, like something inside her was just spreading through her system, and she found she didn't mind it at all.

It felt like home. Like a family that she had missed out on before, but was getting a second chance at now. It felt complete.

She decided that she was okay with having a home instead of just a house for once. It was a new experience, totally foreign to her. But that was alright, because she was never one to shy away from an adventure.

These people, these boys, they were much more than just a team. Sure, that's important too, but they were infinitely more powerful than that. This group of misfits and 'extraordinarys' that are really just people isolated from the rest of the world, had suddenly become a support system for one another. Through mutual pain and loss, and from understanding of scars, a power family was born. One that would remain fiercely protective of each other when the world forgot that they were vulnerable too.

As Thor triumphed as the 'ultimate pool warrior'; as Clint playfully whacked him with a floaty; as Steve and Tony splashed boyishly at each other; as Bruce finally laughed without restraint; Natasha knew that this is what a family was supposed to be like.

She just _knew_, from the bottom of her cracked, but not broken, heart, that this, _this_ is what love is.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, it's been a nice and easy journey, for the most part! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, subscribed, or favorited! I'm glad that you guys enjoyed it! This last chapter was almost more like drabbles put together, but whatever...

Also, if you guys were confused about what Steve had proposed to Fury, don't worry, because I never really made it super clear. In this chapter, the first four drabbles were meant to show that the new rule behind missions for both Natasha and Clint, was that at least one of the Avenger members has to be with them for it a mission. Not just sent in last minute as backup, but to actually officially provide cover throughout the mission itself.

So, I probably won't reply to these, but I like reading your guys' responses regardless, so here's the last question for you guys to answer:

**_If you had to be one of the Avenger members, who would you be, and why? (Gender applicability doesn't really matter)_**

Well, until next time!

MI3


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